Ere the End
by njborba
Summary: Catherine is surprised when Steve doesn't let her leave so easily. Spoilers for Ep. 9.11


Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

* * *

So... I watched 9.11 and reconfirmed that these two can make me smile and cry all in the span of one episode. Then I wrote something. It's a bit clunky. And I still haven't watched anything between Kono's wedding and this one.

Please enjoy.

* * *

 **Ere the End  
**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

She traveled light.

Both straps of her backpack hung securely over her shoulders as she stood in line waiting. Mundane chatter filtered through to her from the others in line. Mainly she focused on the overhead announcements. _Flight 317 with service to Boise is now boarding at gate B-9. Paging passenger Alexander Wade… Alexander Wade, please meet your party at gate C-11._

Catherine refocused on the man at the podium to her right.

"At this time we will begin pre-boarding for those passengers traveling with small children and anyone else needing assistance."

Parents and grandparents immediately broke the line, shuffling kids along with them.

She knew it would be a full flight from Billings to her layover in Chicago, but there were so many of them. Babies in strollers, babies in car seats, babies strapped to their mother's front or their father's back. Toddlers crying, crawling, sitting on the floor and refusing to budge. Parents cajoling their children with food, blankets, stuffed animals and pacifiers.

One woman eagerly moved up in line with her son who looked to be about ten or eleven. He was perfectly happy and quiet with his nose stuck in a book. Not an electronic device, but an actual book. She was clearly taking advantage of the early boarding, but they let her through as Catherine caught a snippet of conversation in front of her.

"I had the vasectomy because you said you didn't want a third child," a man spoke to what Catherine assumed was his wife. He had a toddler at his hip, clutching a car seat with his free hand. His wife cradled a baby just a few month's old and shot daggers at the man beside her. "People change their minds, Ryan. I'd just given birth when I said that, how can anyone be responsible for what they say while…"

From behind her someone spoke what was on Catherine's mind. "Do they realize we can all hear them?"

Catherine noticed the voice came from an older, grandmotherly woman. A grunt of agreement came from the gray-haired man beside her.

She hated airports. Hated flying. Hated the microcosm of life on display at airports and on flights.

Her thoughts drifted back to several days ago.

His out of the blue call. The long silence.

Then the emotional crack of his voice as he had spoken the words. _Joe White is dead_.

She hadn't been prepared for the way they'd cut her like a knife through a fish's belly.

Catherine breathed out slowly as two people in wheelchairs were escorted to the head of the line. One was an elderly man with a cane laid across his lap. The other was a woman in her mid-thirties. She wore a bulky cast over her foot, ankle and lower calf. A pair of crutches was propped precariously beside her on the wheelchair. They were alive. Everyone in the airport was alive.

Joe was dead. Seemingly invincible, Joe White.

In all honesty, Joe hadn't been a huge part of her life. Or so she'd thought.

At first she had mourned his loss because of how deeply it had affected Steve; akin to losing his father. It hurt her because it hurt him so much. And now she knew the true depth of what Joe White had meant to her.

Her thoughts tumbled back to Steve. They always did.

Catherine recalled the scruff of his beard that greeted her outside that cabin-shack in the northern Montana woods.

The marked slump of his shoulders.

His vacant eyes.

She'd listened to him talk. And not talk. She'd stood guard outside, and inside. Kept her ears tuned and her eyes sharp.

The rest of it played out faster in her memory.

The team that had swiftly come together under her and Steve's guidance. Their mission in Laos. The backside of a woman she hadn't seen in years. The look in Steve's eyes as that woman tried to _explain_. The look that had told Catherine he'd never be able to pull the trigger. The look that let her know it was up to her. She hadn't hesitated. Never would where he was concerned.

The hug on the tarmac stood out brightest. The hug that she'd never wanted to end.

But an agreement had been made. Unspoken and unwritten. There nonetheless.

"At this time we'd like to welcome all passengers for our premium class boarding, as well as any active duty and retired military."

Catherine breathed out slowly and adjusted the weight of her pack.

The sounds of the airport continued to follow her as she inched up in line. _Paging passengers Zach Mayhew and Michael Dougray, passengers Mayhew and Dougray please proceed to gate D-8. This is your final boarding call for flight 973 to Denver. Passengers Mayhew and…_

"Cath!"

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She shook her head.

The man at the podium spoke again. "Please have your boarding passes out and ready. You do not need to show photo ID."

Catherine glanced down at her phone and swiped the screen to make sure her electronic boarding pass was still pulled up.

"Cath!"

Her head turned to glance over her left shoulder, unable to dismiss it that time. The distinct sound of her name on his lips.

She scanned the crowded airport.

Her eyes didn't take long to find him. He always stood out in a crowd. In a tuxedo or khakis. Didn't matter. It wasn't just his height or striking handsomeness. He had a calm yet steadfast presence that captivated her. He was standing at the top of an escalator about fifty yards away. His eyes aimed downward as he treated the conveyance like a stairway. The escalator didn't seem quick enough for his long strides.

"Ma'am… ma'am, are you going to board…"

Catherine turned toward the gate. The older couple was creeping up behind her, looking to pass if she didn't move.

The gray-haired man wore a baseball cap with gold letters emblazoned across it. Korean War veteran.

"Go ahead," Catherine stepped aside and waved them in front of her. She turned to see if her eyes had been playing tricks on her.

He stood at the edge of the carpet, a few feet behind her. Blue jeans. His hands stuffed inside the pockets of his puffy black vest.

"Steve," she fully veered out of line, moving to stand in front of him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

His shoulders had lost their slump. His eyes weren't quite as vacant.

The hint of a smile lit his face, "Nothing's wrong," he assured.

She hadn't seen one of those from him in a while; a smile. A real one. "I don't understand… then why are you here?"

"I found myself wondering how much time you have. I thought maybe we could speed up our… next time," he said with a shrug.

Catherine's stomach knotted. She wasn't sure what to think. She was even less certain how to feel. His smile always melted her. She hated that fact. She loved that fact. This wasn't the agreement, though. Their unspoken rules. The ones that had become the new norm for them. From living together. To nearly getting married. She'd busted that all to hell. Somehow they'd managed something new.

But this wasn't it.

"How much time do you have before you have to be…" Steve shrugged again.

He didn't know where she needed to be. Not exactly. And he didn't ask. Didn't push for those answers anymore. "I have to be in D.C.," Catherine breathed out with a sigh. It was all she could give as far as location or job detail. "In about seventy-two hours."

"At least ten of that will be travel time," he noted, "And one layover… maybe twelve hours with airport security and all. We have sixty hours."

"Give or take," Catherine confirmed.

His smile was gone. The look in his eyes was different. Resolute. He extended his right hand to her, palm up.

She slipped her hand into his hold and walked away from the gate at his side.

* * *

The breath was sucked from her chest as he pushed her against the door.

Thankfully her dutiful backpack cushioned most of the blow.

A hotel. At least it wasn't a motel. Truth was she didn't mind. It could've been a field in the middle of nowhere for all she cared. His mouth covered hers in a needy manner that she was fairly certain had never been the case before. His lips moved to her jaw, her neck. They'd been rushed more than a time or two during visits. But he'd never gone after her like this.

"Slow down," she whispered in his ear.

His breath hitched. He pulled away a fraction of an inch.

He was warm against her. His hands at her waist, his lips hovering above hers.

"We have time," Catherine cracked a tiny smile as she gazed into his eyes. She still wasn't sure what this was. Was it okay to smile? Was it okay to be happy? How would it all end this time? She tried not to think it to death.

"Less than sixty hours," he panted, like seconds ticking by on a clock. His lips pressed against her neck again.

Her eyes closed as she fumbled with the keycard. Thoughts of fields aside, she needed to get them out of the hall.

They stumbled inside but the door stood open as he pushed the backpack off her shoulders.

Catherine stared at him. She wasn't sure if he had any sort of control at the moment. Part of her liked it. Part of her was worried.

The 'liked it' part won out as she again tried to quiet her mind.

His eyes bore into her and for a fleeting moment she worried they wouldn't even be able to undress fully before… "Steve," her voice cut off her thoughts. She could hear the dull echo of conversation behind them. There were people in the hallway. "Door," she instructed.

He backed up slowly, his eyes focused on her lips as he blindly shut the door behind them.

Steve toed off his boots and moved toward her. She felt foolish for the way her stomach jumped in to her throat. His puffy vest was shed and he removed his t-shirt. Catherine bit her lip. Why did it feel so different? It wasn't supposed to happen against. That was why. They'd never worked. Never fit right. Not for anything lasting. They could only be friends. That's how it had started.

She didn't want to lose that.

Steve closed the gap between them. He tugged at her shirt hem. He pulled it over her head. He tossed it.

"I…" she sucked in a breath as his fingertips brushed against her bare belly. "Should we…"

Catherine was stuck as he reached behind her, fiddled with the clasp of her bra just long enough to undo it. She closed her eyes. Don't fight it. Don't fight it. She couldn't if she tried at this point. He swept her off her feet. Literally. He picked her up and her legs acted on their own, wrapping around his waist. How many years. And he could still lift her, strong as ever.

He cushioned her fall onto the bed. His arms braced on either side of her.

"We have time," she whispered again, hands splayed against his chest.

She smiled. She didn't care if she wasn't supposed to. She didn't care if she was supposed to. She smiled.

He always made her smile. Among other things. So many other things.

* * *

The airport seemed a million miles away.

That tarmac hug was a million miles away. Same with the cabin-shack further north.

Along with Laos, China, Hawaii and all the other numerous places they'd been together. None of those places mattered anymore. They never would. Not as much as this place. This time. Catherine wasn't sure it was considered breaking the rules if they'd been unspoken agreements. She didn't want to _not_ think about it anymore. It was all she could think about.

"I can hear you," he spoke softly, a yawn following his words.

Steve stretched, back arched, sheet shifting. He settled. One arm flung over his head.

She eyed him, head cocked slightly to the left.

"Your thinking is kind of loud," Steve said. A few seconds passed before he added, "Doesn't matter."

 _Doesn't matter_.

Those words echoed her thoughts and she breathed out.

The past was past. The future was filled with more unwritten rules. Breakable.

Silence reigned for a moment. She blinked, focusing on the room around her. Her eyes widened as she sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet securely around her torso. "Holy crap," Catherine uttered unintelligibly. She glanced over at Steve for a second before her gaze snapped forward again. "Was that…" she stretched out her right hand and pointed, "Has that view been here the whole time?"

Steve sat forward a little. He grinned before laying back.

She glanced over her shoulder a second time, surprised he seemed more interested in the back of her head. "Seriously?" Catherine turned away from him to gaze out the window. It was a massive window across from the bed, took up most of the east wall. An expansive view of river and foothills greeted her. A stand of birch and ash trees, grass as green as she'd ever seen. It was breathtaking.

At the moment, hues of eggplant and fuchsia painted the vast Montana sky. Sunrise.

"We weren't exactly looking at the view yesterday," he said, palm pressed against the small of her back.

Her lips curved in to a smile. She nodded. "At least not that one." Catherine laid back, still focused on the sunrise. "It's gorgeous."

He turned and propped himself on one arm. "Yeah, it is." He ran his hand along her shoulder, down her arm, to her waist.

"You're not even looking at…" she chuckled softly. He was right. There'd been no time for views last night. No time for talking either. There'd been sex. More than once. And then they'd slept for at least twelve straight hours. The last few days having finally caught up to them.

"Do you remember the first time we were together?" Steve asked as she turned and looked him in the eye.

Catherine's smile remained.

"Didn't we just go over this? You asked me to the gala, I asked what took you so long. Joe White spurned you along."

Steve shook his head slightly. "Not that. The first time…" he waved a hand between them. "First time we did this."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did… what?"

"Coy is not your specialty, lieutenant," he replied. "Sex, Catherine. The first time we had sex."

"Oh…" she drew out the word.

He grinned. "It was our third date."

"How chivalrous of you," Catherine teased.

Steve continued. "You took me to that fancy restaurant in Norfolk. I don't even know what we ate, something you ordered in French. It was good. It had garlic. I remember thinking the night was a bust because you ordered a garlicy dish."

Her smile deepened. She was impressed by his memory of the evening as he went on to describe the walk they'd taken along the waterfront. The type of dog she'd stopped to pet. The number of blocks they'd traversed. The house number where she'd been living at the time. "I remember that place," Catherine said with a shake of her head. "The room I had there was so…"

"Small," he supplied for her. "It was eight by ten."

"Uh, at least nine by ten," she corrected.

"You had a full sized bed that my feet hung off the end of," Steve recalled. "And the only other thing in that room was books. That one bookshelf that was overflowing. And the books that were stacked, and stacked…"

Catherine shrugged, "I told you I liked to read."

"Yeah, you did…" he arched his brow at her. "You were so loud that night and I just remember all these books around us. I was dead sure some librarian was about to poke her head through the door and shush us."

A bark of laughter escaped her lungs. She buried her face against his chest. She could feel the heat of a blush against her cheeks.

How could he do that to her. Still.

"Your tiny room windows had those dumb curtains…" Steve recalled. She listened intently. "They only covered the top three quarters of the window, for whatever reason. So at 0730 the next morning I get this beam of sunlight aimed at my eyes. Who wakes up at 0730 after having mind-blowing library sex?" he questioned. "Yet there I was, awake."

She smiled. "I was awake."

"I know." Steve looked her in the eye. "I remember you were propped on one arm with a book in front of you. You were reading. At 0730. After my powers should have crippled you. You were reading a book."

Catherine chuckled softly. "I like to read."

"I know," he grew serious. "You didn't even look up for a while. And you were wearing your glasses."

"Right," she nodded. "I'd taken my contacts out."

"The rims were solid black," he remembered, "But the side arms had some sort of blue scroll design, vines I think," Steve was confident. "Must have been vines because there was a tiny tree etched on the corner near the hinge."

She stared at him for a moment. "Pretty good memory, for an old man."

He shook his head, "I probably deserve that for my kid comment yesterday," Steve acknowledged. "I was trying not to…" he trailed off. "I can do you one better." His eyes closed and he breathed out softly before reciting, " _Tho' much is taken, much abides. And tho' we are not now that strength which in old days moved heaven and earth, that which we are; we are."_

Catherine heard the pause and wasn't sure if he recalled the rest. She took up where he'd left off, _"One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find…"_

His hands took hers. _"And not to yield."_

Her chest constricted. "You remember the poem I was reading."

"Ulysses by Tennyson," Steve stated. "I remember. I remember everything, Cath."

"Steve, it… it's actually: _that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven_ ," she corrected.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said heaven and earth. Reversed."

Steve rolled his eyes, still holding her hands. "I remember the poem you were reading, how many years ago? More than ten. The poem you were reading after the first time we made love, and you, you're correcting me?"

She bit her lip, sorry she'd said anything. Before it had been the first time they'd had sex. Just now he'd used the words made love. She watched him watching her. She tried to gauge his true feelings. But she gave in to not knowing.

"I love you, Cath," he whispered.

His words hit their mark. "I love you, too," she easily responded.

There was so much more between them than just _that_ word.

There was a lot of forgiveness in love.

"I'm sorry," Steve swallowed.

Her eyes narrowed. "You have nothing to be sorry about. This has been… wonderful. And I can…"

"I don't want you to think…" he interrupted. "This wasn't just some whim or grief," Steve sighed.

"Steve, I followed you out of that airport. Willingly," she insisted.

He gave a small nod. "Then you'll marry me," he stated.

Her eyes widened. She wasn't frightened of his declaration. But she was surprised.

"I don't mean today, or tomorrow," Steve shook his head. "Maybe… uh, when we're seventy or eighty. Kind of like Aunt Deb getting married so late in life," he shrugged, "There won't ever be anyone else I want to marry, Cath. You're the only one. And when the time comes I will stand beside you, and hold your hand."

She was keenly aware that he still had her left hand firmly clasped in his.

"However old we are, we'll stand on a beach or in a backyard… hell, maybe the foothills of Montana or a field in Afghanistan. Doesn't matter where. Doesn't matter when. I'll say all the right words. Love. Honor. Cherish."

"Follow to the ends of the earth," she added. "And back."

Steve smiled. "Die for."

"Kill for," Catherine swallowed.

He nodded. He held his fingers in an odd manner. Thumb and pointer a quarter inch apart. "I'll have a real ring," Steve brushed his fingertips along the delicate skin of her ring finger. "It won't be plain like the one the other day or even the one I got for you… before. Yours will be delicate. An antique. Probably not a diamond. I'm thinking emerald," he nodded assuredly.

"Yours will be simple," she let him know. "Platinum. Smooth and strong. No seams. No beginning. No end."

"And some officiate will be in front of us," Steve continued. "Heck, maybe it'll be Danny. He'll get ordained on one of those legit websites. And he'll pronounce us man and wife. Or husband and wife."

She grinned. "If it's Danny he'll probably pronounce us stubborn and stubbornest."

Steve pointed a finger at her, "You're the stubbornest."

"Yep," she nodded, "Sounds right."

He looked her in the eye, still holding her left hand. "I'll say the words for real. I do."

"I do, too," Catherine grinned.

Only one thing remained.

 _The_ kiss.

Minutes later, after a kiss that was similar to all their others yet vastly unique, Steve drew her closer. He snugly spooned her back against his chest. His chin rested atop her right shoulder. "So, how should we spend our honeymoon?"

"There's a Cowboys versus Seahawks wildcard playoff game tonight," she suggested.

He flopped onto his back, his grip on her waist loosened, head thrown to the pillow. Steve let out a laugh, the likes she hadn't heard in a very long time. She turned and glanced at him with a blank look. "Did I say something funny? I know you find my faith in the Cowboys misguided but I think they have a good chance to take down the Seahawks tonight. I was going to TiVo it."

His laughter trailed off. He actually wasn't sure if she was being entirely serious or not.

Steve pulled her in again, this time they were face-to-face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against her right shoulder. "How long do we have?" he asked, peppering one small patch of her shoulder with kisses.

Her eyes had closed. "About forty-two hours left."

"Sixty minutes in an hour," he mumbled against her shoulder. "Sixty divided by ten, times forty-two."

"Two hundred and fifty-two," Catherine instantly came up with the answer.

He nodded a little, his lips still caressing the same small square inch of her shoulder.

She grinned, "You going to stay there all day?"

His head shook a little. "Only ten minutes."

Catherine breathed out. "Okay…" The feel of his mouth on her shoulder made her entire body tingle. "You seem very, very interested in that small bit of skin there. And who am I to tell you to stop, but I can't help being curious about…"

"I'll stop," Steve assured her. "In about seven and a half more minutes." He kissed the same spot again, a fraction of an inch higher. "Then I'll find 251 more spots on your body to focus on for ten minutes at a time," he explained.

Her heart beat a little faster. He could still make her weak in the knees. She knew he always would. Catherine gently pushed against his bare chest so she could see his eyes. "At least thirty of those places better be my lips. And then I have other suggestions."

"We'll see," he shrugged. "Dealer's choice."

"Ah," she closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his warm breath against her shoulder again. Truth was she didn't care if he kissed that one patch of skin for thirty-six hours straight. "Is this payback for me taking half your money at the casino?" she teased.

"We are married now," Steve murmured between kisses.

A small bubble of laughter slipped past her lips. "No, it won't be official until we're, what? Seventy or eighty," Catherine reminded him. "At that point half of what you own will be denture cream and a cane. I'm good."

He chuckled against her shoulder.

* * *

She traveled light.

This time her small backpack rested on the floor at her feet. The heavy weight of a six-foot-three former Navy SEAL rested against her back. His arms at her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. At least this time he hadn't needed to buy a ticket just to find her at the gate. He had his own ticket. A flight that would depart in another hour and a half.

"How long?" he whispered against her ear.

Catherine glanced at her watch. "Just a few minutes." She turned. Still in his embrace, facing him. Their eyes met. She stayed that way for several seconds as families with small children passed by them. Catherine smiled. She didn't dwell on the airport surroundings. Her mind wandered back to the previous night. Watching football. Watching Steve follow through on his promise.

He'd kissed her shoulder. Her clavicle, the V of her cleavage. Her elbow, her fingers, thighs, ankles. He'd kissed her in between her annoyed mumbles. _I can't believe you missed that field goal._ _Damn it, Beasley, get up. We can't lose you, too. No, Austin! Oh crap, not an interception, Prescott._ He'd kissed her amongst the cheering. _Yes, run, run… Austin, run! Prescott's running for the touchdown!_

After the Cowboy's squeaker victory she'd turned the tables on him. She'd only kissed half a dozen places before he'd admitted defeat.

That had all been hours ago. Now she stood. About to leave. Not wanting to ask. Wanting to ask. "Steve, what…"

"Changed?" he read her mind. "You."

Catherine swallowed. "My leaving?"

"In a way. Yes," Steve nodded. He delicately tucked a bit of hair behind her left ear. "After you returned for Kono's wedding, I decided to buy the ring. I was going to ask the question. But it wasn't what I wanted."

She felt her stomach lurch. Not sure she wanted the truth.

"I was doing what you do," he tried to explain. "Taking the next logical step. It's what everyone does. What everyone tells you to do. You fall in love, you get married, live together and maybe have a few kids. You grow old together. That's it."

Her brow arched. "Not us."

"Not us," he agreed. "That's not our… not our normal. It took me so long to realize that, Cath. I tried putting you in a box. I tried putting myself there as well. It failed, spectacularly. Until I realized what I was doing wrong I was angry, I was sad… mad. I blamed you. I said to myself that you ran away. But you have never run away from me."

"I run to you," she whispered.

"You run to me," Steve agreed. "A few days ago I called and you came running. I needed you and you were there. And we don't have to live together or even be in the same city, same country, to be… us."

"You're sure?" Catherine asked. She hoped. She'd never realized it either, but she'd been living under the same societal norm confines he'd just described. Thinking that's what he'd wanted. Thinking she'd ruined it all.

"You are all I need, Cath," he let her know. "Whenever, wherever. However long at a time. You're it."

She smiled. She didn't care who in the airport could overheard them. "Are you sorry we didn't realize it sooner?"

"No, Cath," his head shook. "No, because the journey… that's been half the fun."

A tear threatened at the corner of her right eye. "So, I'll go to D.C. now…"

"I'll go back to Hawaii," Steve agreed. "You have a job. I have mine. And in between…"

Catherine nodded, aimlessly caressing the bare spot of his left ring finger. "I love you."

"Love you more," he grinned, pulling her closer.

Their hug and the ensuing kiss were pierced by the woman at the gate podium. "At this time we'd like to welcome all passengers for our premium class boarding, as well as all active duty and retired military."

She kissed him again. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't needy. It was just goodbye for now.

He gently rubbed the bare spot of her left ring finger. Then he let go.

Steve bent down and retrieved her bag. He helped slid it over her left shoulder. He kissed her again. A brief one.

"Go on," he insisted in his usual nonchalant manner.

There was a time she'd taken that manner the wrong way. Now she knew better. She knew it was Steve's way.

With a deep breath Catherine turned away from him. She pulled her phone free of her vest pocket. She pulled up her electronic boarding pass and the attendant scanned it. She took a step toward the tunnel. Another. Then she glanced back over her shoulder to see him. She usually didn't look back, but she couldn't help it. He stood there in his blue jeans. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his puffy vest.

He smiled. His head gave just the slightest of nods for her to get going.

Catherine smiled as well. She knew it would be the two of them in the end. If they weren't together then it wasn't the end.

That was enough for her to turn and take the next step into the tunnel.

That was enough to get her through all the days.

Until next time.

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
